April 3, 2012
AN ODE TO PASSOVER/EASTER PAST
On Easter Sundays when I was young
Dad took my sister and me to the zoo
To participate in the egg hunts
We found nothing, had no clue.
Until we spoke to the egg-hider
Dad always knew “The Man”
We were quietly led to the hiding places
We gathered pastel eggs and ran.
To the booth to collect our prizes
Chocolate bunnies we took home
We ate our bunnies that day and next
But this is not the end of my poem.
Passover was more than an egg hunt
It meant a lot to me
We had Seders at Aunt Yetta’s
She lived downstairs of Grandma D.
Uncle Louie or Dad conducted
We had every homemade dish
Chopped liver with schmaltz , hard matzo balls
And Grandma ’s gefilte fish.
Uncle Louie’s Seders went on too long
Dad happily skipped pages
Four questions were asked by eight first cousins
We came in a wide-range of ages.
We left for college, work and marriages
And no longer returned for the Seder
Grandma Davidoff moved to Heaven
The next generation went later.
I don’t make schmaltzy liver
For our simple, smallish Seder
Our grown kids ask the four questions
It continues getting later.
February 3, 2020
January 16, 2020
CITY SIDEWALKS, BUSY WRITERS, HOLIDAY CHEERS AND CHAIRS
December 24, 2019